Page 66 of Fat Sold Mate
Every five minutes,I almost whine, but quash the urge. No use complaining. This is what I was made for. Enforcing. Protecting. Keeping me and mine safe, no matter the cost.
The cat disappears into the undergrowth as we both leap to our feet, conversation forgotten in the face of more immediate threats. As we race toward the disturbance, my thoughts remain tangled around Ruby, around the conversation we desperatelyneed to have, around the truths that might set us both free, if only I could find and voice them.
If only we survive long enough for me to find the right words.
Chapter 25 - Ruby
Full moon light filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the gathering warriors. Silvercreek's strongest fighters stand in tight formation—thirty wolves prepared to risk everything for our kidnapped packmates. The air thrums with tension, with purpose, with the barely leashed violence that defines shifters on a hunt.
And I'm going with them.
My fingers trace the outline of my mother's grimoire, tucked securely in the leather satchel at my hip alongside Sera's journal. The weight is comforting despite the terror clawing at my insides. I'm no warrior—my strength has never been physical—but tonight, my magic may determine whether our pack survives.
“Remember,” Luna instructs, her voice low as she hands me small fabric pouches filled with herbs and crystals, “the purification works in stages. You'll feel resistance at first—the corruption fighting back. Push through it, no matter how it feels.”
I nod, committing her words to memory though we've been over this a dozen times in the past three days. “And if it's too strong?”
Luna's eyes flicker briefly to where James stands with Nic and Thomas, reviewing attack formations one final time. “Draw deeper on your bond. It's strong enough, Ruby. Stronger than you realize.”
Before I can respond, Nic raises a hand for silence. The pack instantly stills, all eyes turning to their Alpha.
“We know our objective,” he says, voice pitched to carry no further than our circle. “Get in, free our people, get out. No heroics, no unnecessary risks.” His gaze sweeps the assembled fighters before landing on me. “Ruby's priority is performing the purification ritual on any corrupted wolves who can still be saved. Protect her at all costs.”
James steps forward, his expression betraying none of the anxiety I feel pulsing through our bond. “First team creates the diversion at the eastern boundary. The second team, led by Thomas, breaches from the north. Main rescue force follows me in from the west, where intelligence suggests the prisoners are being held.”
Simple, straightforward. So many ways it could go wrong.
As the fighters move to their assigned positions, James catches my elbow, drawing me aside into the shadow of a massive oak. His touch sends a current through our bond, awareness sharpening between us like a blade being honed.
“Stay close to me,” he says, his voice low with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “No matter what happens in there.”
“I know the plan,” I reply, aiming for reassurance but landing somewhere closer to defensive.
James shakes his head, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “This isn't about the plan, Ruby. This is about—” He stops, dragging a hand through his hair as he searches for words. “I need you to know something. Before we go in there.”
The solemnity in his tone sends a chill down my spine. “What is it?”
“This thing between us,” he begins, gesturing vaguely at the space between our bodies. “It didn't start with the lottery. Orthe forced bond. It was there before. For me, at least. I need you to know that.”
I stare at him, momentarily speechless. Of all the moments to have this conversation, he chooses now, minutes before we charge into battle against corrupted wolves?
“What are you saying?” I manage finally.
His eyes meet mine, amber depths filled with an emotion I'm afraid to name. “I'm saying I've been drawn to you since before Luna left Silvercreek. Years, Ruby. But I never knew how to approach you. I was a coward. I went along with how the pack treated you. I stood by while they made you an outcast.”
The confession hits like a physical blow, leaving me breathless with conflicting emotions. Hope and skepticism war within me, neither gaining the upper hand.
“Why tell me this now?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Because we might not get another chance,” he answers simply. “And you deserve to know that whatever happens in there, whatever we face—my feelings for you aren't because of some magical bond we were forced into. They existed long before that.”
I want to believe him. Gods, how I want to. But the memory of his laughter, of cruel words spoken to friends, still burns in my mind. And beneath that lingers the deeper question—how much of what we feel now is real, and how much is the magic binding us together?
“James, I—” I begin, not sure what I'm going to say.
He shakes his head, cutting me off gently. “You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”
The call comes before I can respond—a low whistle signaling it's time to move out. James holds my gaze for one moment longer, something unspoken passing between us, before we rejoin the others.
